


Bonds of love (Part 2): The Reward of Release.

by onkoona



Series: Bonds of Love [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Severus Snape, Corporal Punishment, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Sex Toys, Shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:09:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4007035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onkoona/pseuds/onkoona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Because Friday was both a school day and a non-school night, it kind of became a special day. And that particular Friday, Severus was teaching his classes, quite as usual, while wearing something under his clothing he wouldn't ordinarily wear; a harness made of rope hugged his hips, and wrapped snugly around one thigh."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1.

**Chapter 1.**  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Over the five years of living together, Harry and Severus had developed a set routine. Weekdays Severus would prep for classes, teach full time, supervise detentions and do all those things teachers do, while Harry worked on the little potions business he'd set up, called 'From The Prince's Cauldron'. Harry had convinced Severus that, with proper instructions from the Half Blood Prince plus his own useful, if boring, almost infinite patience for preparing and brewing by those same instructions, combined with his innate strong magic, Harry was capable of making the best versions of the most common potions. And, with the aid of a Weasley or two, Harry showed Severus that there was indeed a good market for these to a gifted brewer quite boring products. Most of them were cleansers or skin creams or fever reducers; useful but boring and relatively easy to brew. Whenever there was a demand for something of a higher level, Harry would consult Severus, and, where needed, Severus would do the brewing, while Harry did the labour-consuming prepping.  
  
Harry had noticed early on that his lover was bored easily, so he made sure his irascible potion genius did not have to brew the same potion more than twice. Harry took very careful notes of the ingredients and the brewing process. Including everything the Potion Master said while brewing, because once Severus really got into a new brew, he was very talkative, in a way he'd never been when he was still teaching Harry in class.  
  
So, on weekdays both were quite busy. Weekday evenings were spent together, where possible, allowing Severus two hour's time to grade papers (he'd had to seriously reduce his commenting on the dunderheads' no doubt lousy work in order to keep grading within the allotted time) and Harry spent those same hours doing the potion business' correspondence and paper work.  
  
Whenever there were detentions Severus had to supervise, Harry would join him in the class room and spend the time prepping more ingredients, much like he did in the daytime. Severus complained bitterly about this; seeing their Hero peel and gut stinky flobberworms really took the sting out of the punishment. But Harry only smiled at that; peeling and gutting flobberworms was horrid work, even when it was part of your chosen job. And it made Harry feel better to be doing it with his lover there for moral support. The presence of the students was incidental and, Harry argued, they did not get the benefit of a temporary no-smelling spell on their noses. Or the relief of the special anti-itch hand cream Severus had developed just for Harry's sensitive hands.  
  
All the school work plus the hall monitoring left little time for much on school nights; even so, they managed to get some loving in here and there. But there was the rule that there were to be no 'games' on a school night. Games were for the weekend only. And the weekend started on Friday after last class and ended on Sunday after dinner. Sunday night counted as a school night and as such was filled with homework for both of them.  
  
Because Friday was both a school day and a non-school night, it kind of became a special day. And that particular Friday, Severus was teaching his classes, quite as usual, while wearing something under his clothing he wouldn't ordinarily wear; a harness made of rope hugged his hips, and wrapped snugly around one thigh.  
  
It wasn't a constrictive harness, by any means, it didn't hamper his movements in any way. All it did was let Severus feel it every time he moved, which over a workday was a lot. Harry had tied it on him that morning, and every tug and rub of the stiff ropes made him feel Harry was with him. The ropes and the butt plug Harry had inserted in Severus that morning. Every moment he was aware of either, he felt warm with the thought of Harry thinking about Severus like that all day, just like Harry had said he would. It was worth the almost painful build up of desire Severus suffered throughout the day, in the light of Harry's order not to alleviate the problem until Harry gave the liberating word. And Severus knew he'd not see Harry until tea time after last class, since Harry said he'd not be home for lunch, as he had business in Diagon Ally for most of the day.  
  
Severus sighed happily at his 'plight'. He felt proud that he was able to keep to the instructions almost completely, but also mildly frustrated that he'd not see Harry until much later that day. And a tiny bit apprehensive. After all, Harry had not commanded Severus to slip that sea shell with that sharp serrated edge under the ropes looped around his thigh. Severus couldn't help doing it when he saw the shell sit in Harry's bowl of random shells and stones and pine cones, the 'treasures' gathered on many a walk in the Forbidden Forest and on their few beach outings over the years, that sat on the mantle next to a magical sextant Albus had given Severus on his birthday long ago.  
  
Severus had snatched it before bidding goodbye to his lover and leaving the dungeon rooms. He had had to wait until after second period so he could go to the restrooms and, taking his business to a stall, he had slipped it under the ropes, with the sharp side on the inside, and had spelled it in place.  
  
All day he'd been feeling it scratch his skin, feeling the salt of the sea that apparently was still on the shell, making the cut smart delightfully. That, along with all the other stimuli, put the usually dour Potion Master in a rather good mood. Not that he was going to show that to anyone; it would destroy the hard work of long years of teaching the little miscreants to fear him on sight. And that would never do.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
By the time the last class ended at six, Severus was about ready to burst with his need to start the weekend. He quickly swished his wand around his class room, putting everything neatly back into place, with the exception of the mucky cauldrons that he was saving up for the student who'd be in detention on Saturday, who, thank god, would be overseen by some one other than himself; the new Transfigurations Professor, most likely.  _Good luck to her, and good riddance._  
  
Severus knew there would be tea first, and then an hours' wait for the meal to settle, but the sooner he got home, the sooner the game could start. To that end, he took the secret passage that led him straight from the large supply cupboard to the dungeon corridor that had their rooms at the end. He emerged from behind a life size portrait of Gowain of Culloden, a 17th century descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself. The portrait had been painted after the man's death and depicted the proud Scottish warrior as he had been at the Battle of Culloden, with a British and a Scottish sword sticking out of him and blood everywhere.  
  
"Good evening, young Snape," the blond said, using a dripping red hanky to wipe some of the blood off his hands.  
  
"Good evening, Gowain," Severus said, already moving at some speed even as the picture closed up behind him.  
  
Severus could hear Gowain say something else, but he was not patient enough to hear. Instead he almost raced to his door, recited the password and went in quickly.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Tea was fine, as usual. Not that Severus cared one way or another, it was only because Harry insisted that there was tea every night, and the fact that his young lover went out of his way to make Shepherd's Pie that night, that Severus ate the whole serving. He would do it to make Harry happy; for himself, he couldn't care less.  
  
But eating a full meal meant waiting a full hour before games. Again, Severus put up with that rule because it made Harry happy. And he had to admit, the one time early on when they had eaten and played right after had been very educational in what not to do. Messy too. So for that pragmatic reason, if nothing else, Severus was willing to wait to play.  
  
In the meantime, as he sat at the table writing up that article he wanted to send to Potions Weekly, he contented himself by rubbing his legs together in such a way that that shell was doing its delightful work. And pretty soon, he could feel a drop of liquid run down his thigh, making him squirm with delight, which in turn shifted that plug inside him just a little bit; he couldn't suppress a moan.  
  
"Only 20 more minutes," he could hear Harry say from his spot on the couch.  _Only 20 more minutes,_  Severus thought wistfully before redoubling his efforts to distract himself with the writing.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Harry had gone ahead to the play room as Severus had undressed and prepared himself with a thorough magical cleaning, both outside and inside, and some stretching exercises. As he took up his position of kneeling in front of the play dungeon door, he briefly questioned his wisdom of leaving the shell where it was. He'd worn it all day and it seemed hypocritical if he removed it now and, to make all evidence of it ever having been there go away, healed the wound and spelled the blemish away. And he refused to partake in hypocrisy.  
  
As usual he let one hand rest on the door so he could feel it the moment it opened. Presently it shifted and opened, and Severus could see the light shine out from inside. Harry was wearing sweats and a T-shirt, but his feet were bare, and that was as far up as Severus dared to look, or he'd violate another play rule.  
  
"Inside," Harry said and the door opened wider and Harry stepped aside. Severus got to his feet quickly, sneaking as much of a peek around the room as he dared. There were two plain chairs set to the side. The butler's tray was piled high with blue and green rope and off to the other side three large muggle studio lights stood.  _Harry meant to take photos then,_  Severus thought. And, as if the confirm the thought, he spied the black muggle camera sitting on the end of the shelf above the pallet.  
  
When Harry had first stated that he wanted to take photos, Severus had been dubious. He hadn't actually objected; it wasn't his place to object, but it wasn't until Harry was ready to show him some of the photos he'd taken that first year that Severus felt safe around the muggle medium. In his work Harry made sure Severus was not immediately recognizable, usually not recognizable at all. The photos were what Harry called 'art photography', which appeared to mean it was all woolly and blurry, or taken from quite some distance or extremely close-up. Severus really couldn't care less what it was called; as long as no one would guess it was him in the photos, he was willing to indulge Harry in his 'art'.  
  
Severus moved to kneel on the red circular rug. He put his hands on his knees as he relaxed into position and waited for Harry to start talking. He shifted a bit as the shell dug into his thigh.  
  
"Severus, what is that?" Severus looked up at the question and found a finger being pointed back to himself. He followed the imaginary line it sent out and found himself looking at the shell tied to his thigh. He found there was nothing he could say that wouldn't make matters worse. And he found he couldn't lift up his eyes to Harry, for he would not want to see the disappointment and anger in the man's emerald green eyes that doubtless would be there. So he kept silent, letting his head hang.  
  
"You know how I feel about you harming yourself," he could hear Harry say. He could hear the anger in his lover's voice. And he knew he'd bollixed it up; so stupid. "Yes, Harry," he said dutifully.  
  
"It's up to me to say when you hurt, how you hurt and why you hurt," Harry continued.  
  
"Yes, Harry."  
  
"It's up to you to let me know your needs, including those for pain."  
  
"Yes, Harry."  
  
"Or do we revise our agreement?" Harry asked and Severus suddenly felt cold all over. "NO," he almost yelped. "No, never, no," he found himself pleading; he could not bear losing this, he just could not! He found himself bending over to the ground, trying to kiss his Master's bare feet. "Never, never, never," was all he could say.  
  
Severus tried to follow, while staying in position, as Harry pulled his feet away, and Severus was forced to let go. He cowered into himself, desperate and also relieved that Harry had pulled away before Severus could slip and call him Master. Very relieved.  
  
"Well then," Harry said, "some punishment is in order. For harming yourself, three things: first, you will not come tonight." Severus swallowed; not come at all? That was harsh, indeed, but he bowed his head in acceptance without hesitation. "Thank you, Harry."  
  
"Second, you will pose for three hours." Again Severus had to swallow; prolonged photo sessions were something for Sundays, not Friday evenings. But again he accepted it without question. "Thank you, Harry."  
  
"Third thing, you will not do any brewing or potions research tomorrow." Severus almost looked up at that. Saturday was the only day in the week he had time to brew properly, and taking that time away had never been part of a punishment before.  
  
Severus saw the hand that headed for his chin before it touched him and he dutifully lifted his chin up at the merest push up from it. Harry's eyes were wide and his nostrils flared out. Severus felt a stab of dread from that dark look.  
  
"I know this is an unusual punishment, but don't think it hasn't escaped me that lately you've been giving yourself tiny jabs whenever you use a quill and small cuts whenever you use a sharp enough knife. It's got to stop. This thing with the shell is the last one, or I swear you'll never get to brew again. Are we clear?" Severus swallowed in real fear; the look in Harry's glittering verdant eyes showed anger and determination. Harry would make good on his threat, Severus was sure of it.  
  
"Finally, For not coming to me with your needs today, 21 strokes with the paddle," Harry pronounced and Severus thanked him again, knowing that when he'd take that punishment at least he'd be forgiven and it would be over and done with. The threat of taking away his Saturdays was much more dreadful, more so because it relied on Severus' own ability to ask for what he needed. And while he had learned to ask for his big needs, his smaller needs, now that was much harder, because he always thought he should be above such trifling desires.  
  
"Now, sit up, arms behind your back," Harry commanded, and Severus dropped his train of thought and complied.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Harry got started on his completely revised plan for the night. He had planned to try out his newly dyed ropes on a simple 'tie and tickle'; just a bit of play and then a good bit of sex. But Severus had surprised him with the ugly gash on his thigh, and Harry had recognized the self-inflicted wound for what it was immediately; a cry for attention that Sev felt he wasn't getting somehow.  
  
So Harry changed his plans. By staging the art scene he'd originally planned for Sunday, he had given himself three hours' time to figure out what he wanted to do with the other punishments, both the paddle strokes and the keeping Sev away from work the next day. Especially the latter thing would be difficult, because Harry did have some product deadlines and he would need to be working on those on Saturday. So he had to think of a way to do both; work on potions himself and make sure Sev would not be. Difficult, but as he tied a dragonfly arm tie on his lover, stretching the thin arms downward behind the man and tying them together like that, Harry was starting to have some ideas.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Usually Harry would not be thinking so hard when tying Sev up for art, but this time, after he'd decided what he'd do later that night and the next day, his thoughts kept churning as his hands executed his long drawn up plan for the art tie. He diligently worked on the tableau of a pearl diver suspended in the water, or in this case, the blue and green ropes. And when the choice came whether or not to bind Sev's hair, a thing his lover really didn't like, but one that tempted Harry every day, Harry chose to take up the locks of almost two feet long hair and use it, with an extra rope woven in, to keep his lover's head turned up, curving the flexible spine just this side of uncomfortable, so it looked like Sev was just curving upwards from a deep dive, nose first.  
  
With the pose, Harry was drawn to the memory of the very first time he'd found Sev's body desirable. It was a few weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, and Harry had found himself back at the school with nothing planned, nothing to do. Ron was with his family, and Harry had visited of course, but they were Ron's family, not his, so he'd stepped away, giving them their privacy. He had gone with Hermione to Australia. She'd asked him to, because she felt she needed some help proving the magic world and her own existence to her Obliviated parents. Harry had been glad to help, but then, when all was fixed and Hermione was reunited with her folks, Harry left them to it and decided to go home. And quickly found that he had no home to go to. Except Hogwarts, and so that was where he'd ended up.  
  
The first week he was there he spent re-exploring the castle and the grounds. He also spent hours sitting with those students that were still in the infirmary with battle wounds, which was very useful for their recovery. But as time went by, these students, once they were fit enough, started to go to homes of their own, to be cared for by their own. And Harry found his usefulness reduced to helping Madam Pomfrey keep the place tidy and taking care of students who'd come in especially for continued treatment, of which there were quite a few; the overflow from a totally over-worked St. Mungo's. It was in this period that Harry took on some of the practical care for the one person he felt most ambivalent about still alive in the world; Severus Snape, Potion Master, Death Eater and Spy, and at first deeply immersed in a magically induced coma, after having been almost killed by one whopping great snake.  
  
The most complicated part of Harry's job was keeping an eye on things. Yes, Madam Pomfrey had monitoring charms on everything, it seemed, but even her nurse's attention had limits and an alert ward could only go off, not inform her which problem was most dire and really needed attention first. So Harry was charged with being an extra set of brains, a job that was not too hard after taking some instruction.  
  
So it was Harry who noticed Snape had woken up, and it was Harry who'd witnessed Severus' first suicide attempt. Even if he didn't quite realize that was what it was at the time; the incident could have been explained away by saying Snape had mistaken the label on the potion. But really, for a Potion Master of almost 25 years' experience, how likely is that? Be that as it may, Harry had caught the 'error' before Snape could drink and thought no more of it.  
  
Until a few days later when he found Snape's bed empty, and suddenly a really bad feeling settled in his stomach. Not at all sure what he should do, what with Madam Pomfrey not being at the castle for a few hours, Harry did the only thing he could think of; he used one of the more powerful locator spells he'd learned in the past year. It was intended for objects really, but he knew from experience it worked on people too.  
  
He found Snape, dressed only in his nightshirt and barefoot, standing on the edge of a battlement just outside of the Astronomy Tower. The man was facing away, apparently unaware he was not alone. And he was leaning forward, so that it would only take a light breeze to push him over. Then the man leaned ever further out, almost so as to let himself fall off the wall. Harry had no time to call out; instead, by instinct, he cast an Incarcerous at his former teacher, flicking the point of his wand into the direction of the tower space at the end of the spell, thereby pulling the trussed up man away from the sheer drop and catching him in his arms with a thud.  
  
Harry could do no more than reduce the momentum. The bound Potion Master came in at such speed, Harry was bowled over with him. He landed painfully on his butt, letting the man-sausage roll off him. _Oomph, that's going to smart for a bit,_ he thought as he rubbed his bottom, while getting back to his feet.  
  
Once he was vertical he couldn't help but stare at Snape on the ground. The man was writhing in his bonds, screaming from behind his gag. But Harry realized quickly that he wasn't screaming at Harry, at least not specifically; he was just ranting and, more shockingly, he was crying. And Harry just didn't know what to do. So he, by default, just decided to wait it out. Snape had newly woken from a coma, he should wear himself out in no time flat, Harry figured.  
  
So he watched and waited, both repelled and fascinated by the scene. And then he got a shock, well, two shocks. The first was realizing his old teacher was aroused; Harry could plainly see the straining erection pushing against the cloth of the nightshirt as is was tied down close to the body by the spelled ropes. The second was that Harry, who had been looking at that lithe body, at the way it curved and contorted in its struggle, and at that erection, was feeling a flush and stiffening of his own. Harry found himself incredibly turned on by the scene.  
  
At that realization, he felt his face, ears and neck even, warm up in embarrassment. And for a moment he considered leaving. But then common sense prevailed and Harry remembered Madam Pomfrey's very strict instruction NEVER to leave an unconscious or incapacitated person unsupervised.  
  
So he stayed. And after Snape had stopped struggling, completely exhausted, Harry had levitated him back to the deserted infirmary, still bound. He deposited the man back on his bed, unbound him and left without a word. There was really nothing Harry could think of to say. But he did make sure he put a whole slew of monitoring charms on the man. Harry had never liked Snape, but somehow, he found the idea of the man dying by his own hand after all they had been through just too horrible. And he wasn't going to see it happen while he was around.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Over the next week, Harry became Snape's sole caretaker, as Madam Pomfrey spent her days out on house calls. He'd discussed Snape's attempted suicide with her, the second one, not the first, and the nurse had looked concerned, saying that they could try observing another week, but if it happened again, committing the man to St. Mungo's mental ward would be the only option. "Hogwarts Infirmary is no place for the insane," she'd said, making ice flowers bloom in Harry's stomach ; the idea of this nasty proud man in a straight jacket was chilling. And Harry resolved that it wasn't going to happen.  
  
While Pomfrey was away, Harry caught another suicide attempt. And it was the most frustrating one yet. They'd been talking rather nicely that sunny afternoon, Snape reclining in bed and Harry sitting next to it. A nice talk about Herbology of all things. They talked about the sunshine and what good it did to all things green. And somehow they ended up talking about briar and where it liked to grow. And it wasn't until Snape's words started to slur that Harry got suspicious. As the Potion Master fell silent and the man's eyes closed in a too pale face, Harry jumped into action, firing off a diagnostic spell while running to the supply cabinet to get a Bezoar, sure that it must be a poison Snape had taken, though Harry couldn't understand how the man had gotten hold of one; Harry had all poisons warded.  
  
But when the spell dinged, Harry got his answer; not poison, but blood loss. Now at the cabinet, Harry snagged three Blood Replenishing Potions instead and sprinted back to his patient. He dropped two bottles by the man's pillow, yanked the remaining one open and poured it down the man's throat, using a hand to massage his throat so the potion would be swallowed. Once it was, Harry yanked the blanket and sheet off the man and, not too surprising, saw a dark pool of blood between the man's thighs.  
  
A quick inspection showed a jagged gash on the inside of the left thigh, just below the man's underwear. It pumped the blood sluggishly out and Harry wasted no time closing the hole and healing the wound. After he was sure there were no other holes, he forced the other two bottles down Snape's throat and settled in to wait for the man to wake up. He was going to have some serious words with the Greasy Git, because he had enough of this nonsense.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
But Snape wouldn't talk. Not about anything that mattered anyway. And he stopped eating. Harry recognized the move for what it was; sheer desperation to die. But Harry could be stubborn too, as Snape was about to find out.  
  
Getting hold of the Veritaserum had been hard. But Harry could see no other way; soon time would be up and Snape would end up locked away in St. Mungo's, and Harry was pretty sure the man would succeed in killing himself once there. So necessity commanded, and Harry put six drops of the truth potion in Snape's porridge; then he spelled the man motionless and force-fed it to him.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Harry knew he shouldn't have been surprised that Snape's history was a bad one, but nothing could have prepared him for how bad it really was. Between mental and sexual abuse from his father who had sold the 12 year old to Malfoy after Snape's mother was dead - probably killed by her husband - to be handed over to Voldemort to be marked and used in any way the creep saw fit, and being stuck in Slytherin with no hope of help from anybody, including his Head of House or the Headmaster, Snape never stood a chance. And yet, Snape had managed to free himself just enough to change the course of his life; he'd gone to Dumbledore and bowed down to him, knowing full well that he was likely to get killed, or at least sent to Azkaban for his trouble. But by that time, Snape would have been glad to take either option, because he could take no more.  
  
From what Harry could piece together - using Veritaserum is not the best way to get a cohesive story out of anyone - Dumbledore gave him something no one else had ever done; he gave him time to heal. And Harry could tell by the emotion in Snape's voice as he talked of the old Headmaster that he was eternally grateful for that 'mercy', as Snape called it. And clearly it had instilled an unwavering loyalty in the Potion Master, even though, in Harry's opinion, the price he was to pay for it in the end was much too high. The fact that Dumbledore had asked, more like commanded, Snape to kill him, and to use an unforgivable to do it, made Harry lose some of the respect he'd had for the old man. There was no way Dumbledore could not have realized how hard such a task would be for Snape. Dumbledore had made him a murderer, again, and it was the last straw; it had broken the Potion Masters back.  
  
At the end of the 'interrogation' Snape had only been able to sob out repeatedly the names of those he had killed; three people he'd killed while a Death Eater and the one he'd killed by Dumbledore's command. Harry had used a Bezoar to counteract the truth potion and then he forced a Dreamless Sleep potion into the exhausted man. Harry needed the time to think, and Snape needed the rest.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
One thing Snape had said, after he'd demanded Harry kill him for the Nth time, stayed with Harry.  _"I killed four people; my life is forfeit, just by that alone."_  Did Snape really believe that none of what the man had done to help the side of the Light had made any dent in his guilt at all? And the fact that Snape declared himself guilty of Dumbledore's murder, that was just not right; the old man had planned the whole scene, had ordered Snape to do it. Had even asked for it directly at the scene itself. Looking back on that night, Harry realized what those few words and those fleeting looks between the old man and Snape had actually meant.  _"Severus, please." Please do as I have commanded_. It was clear as day now. The bastard!  
  
One thing became very clear to Harry from Snape's potion-induced truths; the man was not going to stop trying to kill himself; there was just too much guilt in him for that. Harry realized he needed to tread carefully, but boldly at the same time, or Snape might just get his way, and that was so not going to happen.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
In the end the solution had been quite simple, if a little tough to implement. Snape had claimed his life forfeit? Well, Harry was willing to take it on, and he informed the man of that the moment he woke up some hours later.  
  
The tough part was of course getting Snape to submit to that, but it was a delightful part as well, as it included a liberal use of the Incarcerous spell and orgasms for both of them. Harry had decided he'd show Snape the benefits of the deal straight away, knowing full well that the man had very likely never found physical pleasure and pleasurable release with anyone before. Now that was something Harry could change for Snape, and he vowed that he would. In return Snape submitted, and it was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen. And he still saw it every time Severus bowed to him and asked for what he needed.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
It took Harry over an hour to finish his art tableau. He then took his sweet time setting up the lights and taking photos. He could tell by the steady thrum of the pendant that Severus was in no distress, and was even a little high on natural endorphins right now. As such, the three hour tie-up was not that big a punishment, but the change-over from this state to the next scene would be all the more shocking. Harry couldn't wait.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Severus was almost disappointed as he felt the ropes being untied. And once his feet were set back onto terra firma, and his mask had been removed, most of the lassitude from his time of being tied evaporated, letting the sadness and the guilt back in. To distract himself, he started his stretching exercises, doing the ones that went the other way from how he'd been for the best part of three hours three times, and the rest only once. His spine had started to complain at the end there, but not so much that it had killed the quiet mood. Severus hoped that Harry would not set him up in a similar position for the rest of the night, though.  
  
That thought brought Severus back to reality with a vengeance; there were 21 strokes to be received this night. He quickly turned around to look for Harry, who was behind him, still rolling up rope and tidying the butler's tray. Severus saw the thick wooden paddle lying on the tray and swallowed. The paddle was the traditional instrument of punishment in schools long ago. And now it would, yet again, be used to correct his errant behaviour. Harry always used it when punishing Severus for failing to state his needs. And it was used disturbingly often. When would he learn? Probably never. No matter how effective the paddle; for it hurt like the dickens but did not harm him. He'd have trouble sitting for two days, and so be reminded of his error. But it was a finite punishment; once meted out, Severus would be forgiven, and once the pain in his bottom subsided, the matter would be over and done with.  
  
No, it was the punishment Harry had set for Severus' transgression of harming himself that had him worried. Harry had never denied him his potions work time before. Severus knew the potion business' new orders demanded that Harry work the Saturday. Would Harry just leave him in their rooms unsupervised? Harry was not such a fool that he'd think Severus would not start a potion in their kitchen if left to himself. Would Harry tie him to the bed and leave him there alone all day? Severus shuddered at the thought.  
  
"Severus."  
  
Severus looked up from where his head had tilted down at Harry who was standing next to one of the high backed wooden chairs that now lay on the ground on its back. Harry handed him a metal ring, which Severus slid up his flaccid cock, tucking his balls through the ring as well, and then Harry indicated he should get down on top of the chair, it seemed. He did his best to follow the instructions Harry gave him on how to accomplish this. And he ended up with his lower legs tied to each of the chair's vertical back supports, thus putting the top of his thighs on the seat, along with his limp penis, now hanging down, leaning his pelvis over the seat's front edge and his torso between the front legs that had no connecting bar to hinder this position. After Harry took a moment to put a fresh eyeless mask on him, Severus was made to tuck his head into the space under the seat and his arms were pulled out to lie against his calves and were tied down there. Harry tied him down all over and then Severus' world tilted as Harry put the chair back on its feet, taking Severus with it, effectively trapping him under the chair, with his ass wrong side up.  
  
As Severus tried to settle into the strange position, the chair wobbled a bit, threatening to topple over front ways. But the movement was caught quickly and Severus tried to hold still as Harry used some ropes to secure the chair to the floor, doubtlessly using some of the many hidden rings set in the natural stone floor. Severus took the double pat on his ass as a sign he could move again. He wiggled a bit, trying to get some of the ropes to sit better and not pinch him and to try and find a place to put his head down more comfortably than just the back of it, and his shoulders, touching the red rug on the floor.  _At least the rug has a warming charm on it,_ he sighed inwardly as he had to give up on his quest and accept his forced position.  
  
"21 strokes, count them," Harry ordered from behind Severus' upside-down back. Air whooshed audibly around the paddle as it travelled and Severus heard the SMACK of its landing just as he felt the pain of it on his whole ass. "One. Thank you, Harry," he said.  
  
The next WHOOSH and SMACK just intensified the fire started in his ass cheeks by the first blow. "Two. Thank you, Harry," he said, trying not to grit his teeth just yet; that would be happening soon enough.  
  
Severus shuddered and finally did grit his teeth as Harry kept the blows coming flat on his ass every time. WHOOSH. SMACK. "Ten. Thank you, Harry," he said.  
  
By now his butt was screaming in pain and he was seriously repenting not having stuck to the rules; not having just asked Harry to fulfill his needs. This was not what he wanted, he wanted damage, not just burning pain, and he knew that was exactly why Harry had chosen the paddle; maximum pain, but no chance of real damage.  
  
WHOOSH, SMACK, pulled him out of his thoughts. "Eleven. Thank you, Harry," he said and he tried to relax into the pain; it would make it better, if he could just put his mind there.  
  
WHOOSH. SMACK. "Twelve. Thank you, Harry," he said, panting now, starting to feel the waves of searing numbness coming to him.  
  
WHOOSH, SMACK. "Th-thirteen," he panted. "Thank you, H-harry."  
  
WHOOSH, SMACK. "Ah, four, ah, fourteen," he gasped, a while haze starting to fill his mind, strangely soothing his aching body. "Thank, ah, thank you, Harry."  
  
"Let go," Harry ordered. "Stop counting and let go," he repeated. And as the next blow hit Severus obeyed, letting himself sink into the white heat, letting the pain consume him. And he never heard Harry pick up the count, and he only peripherally felt the extra pain from the blows as they continued to fall.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Being pretzeled as he was, Severus had a hard time catching his breath after the pain-induced white-out had subsided. The fact that the evening was likely not yet over didn't help matters much. An injunction against coming usually meant there would be a lot of teasing, and tonight Harry had promised there would be no fulfillment at the end of it. Severus found himself both mortified and eager at the thought. And the contradiction of it was making it impossible for him to catch his breath.  
  
A cool hand appeared on his left buttock, making it flare in pain and making Severus jump. "Shhh, relax," Harry said from Severus' right side as the hand trailed fire from his left to his right butt cheek.  _Easy for you to say,_ Severus thought.  
  
"Ah-ah, none of that now," Harry drawled, grabbing on to Severus' right buttock, leaving him both writhing in pain and mortified at having had his thought slip out of his mouth. The hand fell away and a moment later Severus felt the familiar rubber of a ball gag touch his lips. He tried to keep his dismay from showing as he opened his mouth as wide as his awkward position allowed. Severus had to groan as he felt Harry apply quite some force to get the ball in. Harry didn't secure it; there was no need and the buckle would have been situated right where his head lay on the ground, making it a painful if not a dangerous thing to have there. Severus appreciated Harry's insight; he'd hate to have to explain to Poppy why she needed to dig a buckle out of his scalp.  
  
Severus felt Harry move away, and he readied himself for the next part of the evening.  
  
"Ready?" Harry asked.  _A bit late to ask, you cretin_ , Severus thought, safe in the knowledge that he wouldn't accidentally say it out loud. Instead he grunted. "Good," Harry said, sounding ominously chipper.  
  
Severus nearly jumped out of his skin when a icy cold substance touched his most tender parts. But then he recognized the feel and the scent; it was the Ice Lube potion Harry had asked him to write instructions for some weeks ago. Severus hadn't realized Harry had actually brewed the potion; usually Harry would come and show him the first version of a new brew.  
  
"Don't worry, I had someone test it. I'd never put you at risk," Harry said, still sounding happy and carefree. Severus really didn't want to know who'd tested it, probably the Know-it-all, but he was relieved that it was checked. Now he only had to worry about Harry's plans with the lube and how, by Merlin's Beard, he was going to stop himself from coming, cock ring notwithstanding.  
  
As Harry spread the chilly cream over Severus' bottom, Severus was starting to float in a painful pain-free sea of ice, and his mind slowly started to resemble the cool goo on his butt. But it got better, gloved fingers were dipping into the space between his butt cheeks, spreading goo all over the crevice and massaging into his sphincter. And then a a finger entered, moved in and out quickly and then there were two. These moved deeper, roaming around until they found his prostrate, pushing against it strongly as Severus started to keen and writhe in his bonds. A third finger joined them, fucking into his most sensitive nob for hours, it seemed. But just as Severus feared he'd have to break Harry's command and come spectacularly, the fingers slipped out and did not return.  
  
Both Harry's hands left Severus' body, making him sag in frustration against the chair. He gulped in breaths through his nose while he could; Merlin knew he was going to need it.  
  
Then a gloved hand touched him again and he found himself holding his breath. The hand slipped right along the crevice, passed the anus and moved on to the cock ring which imprisoned the drawn up balls and the very stiff cock. A finger trailed all the way up the phallus' length, as it strained against the wooden seat, and when it reached the cock head, the finger flicked against it, making Severus scream and jerk with the small but intense sensation.  
  
Even before the feeling had ended, a blunt item appeared at his hole, and started to press down on it. The abundance of premium lube ensured that the sphincter gave way almost immediately, letting the dildo enter. And enter it did with unrelenting force, not stopping for anything or anyone. Cold shudders ran up and down Severus' back at the power of the thing; he would be impaled, whether he was ready or able or not, and just the thought that he might not be able to take Harry's choice of dong tonight was an incredible turn-on, which only grew as his rectal muscles smarted under the pressure. The earlier shudders were starting to turn to tremors and Severus found an embarrassingly high squealing was coming out of his mouth around the gag. God, the thing hadn't even bottomed out yet, and he was already a wreck!  
  
After an eternity it did bottom and Severus was given a chance to try and catch his breath. Harry had had one hand on Severus' left buttock throughout the insertion, though Severus had not noticed it at the time. But now he did as Harry proceeded to knead the abused flesh while he waited to go on, it seemed. After some minutes of this dual torture of both not enough action (the non-moving dildo) and too much action (the kneading), Severus screamed, which was muffled by the gag of course.  
  
"Hmm? Did you want something," Harry asked from somewhere above.  _Yes, you dunderhead,_  Severus though, and tried to scream.  _Just get on with it!_  
  
"Oh, all right, if you like," Harry said in a mock-bored voice. And Severus was about to scream again when he felt the dong move, being pulled out. 'Out' was quickly replaced with 'in', and Harry set a strong rhythm of out and in, now giving Severus good reason to scream.  
  
With the punishing strokes, Severus felt his orgasm coming to him at break neck speed. He tried his best not to let it happen but he was already feeling the waves come closer and closer and soon there would be nothing he could do to stem the tide. He braced himself and... then the dildo was removed.  
  
Severus panted behind his gag, not having enough air to start screaming again. He could feel his mask get wet on the inside from his tears, and there were itchy trails of sweat running up his back and pooling under his shoulder blades. As he very slowly came down from his near orgasm, he wasn't sure what discomfort was worse; the salty liquid everywhere, the hand that was back on his ass cheek kneading up a storm, the dildo still in his ass that was being tapped against in an erratic rhythm or his rock hard cock trying to bore through the wooden seat. All he could really do is try to breathe and leave the rest to Harry.  
  
Many minutes they were like that. But then Harry patted Severus' ass and said, "round two." And all Severus could do was groan.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Severus was crying unashamedly by the time Harry stopped his climax short for the third time that night. He didn't scream or groan or wriggle anymore; all he could manage were a sea of tears and non-stop shudders.  
  
In the now customary break between 'sessions' Harry was running both hands over Severus' legs and back, as if to soothe him, with some success. Then he stopped and for a moment Severus felt an extreme surge of fear, though he could not pinpoint of what exactly. The feeling left him the moment he was touched again, this time near his head, as his mask and the gag were removed.  
  
"Keep your eyes closed," came a command and Severus obeyed it without a thought. After another moment the hands reappeared, petting him all over.  
  
An immeasurable time passed before the hands went away again and he heard, "round four," from next to him. He had just time to draw one breath before the dildo was pulled out of his ultra sensitive channel, only to be plunged back in and rubbing strongly against his prostrate. He could not refrain from howling at the intense pain/pleasure.  
  
As before, Harry's rhythm was meant to drive him mad in as short a time as possible and he abandoned all semblance of decorum, and screamed and moaned and cussed as if there was no tomorrow. Wave after wave of pleasure were drowning him and dragging him to the deepest pits in the deepest dark oceans, and he tried to hold on, not to come, though he wasn't quite sure why or for whom.  
  
The dildo speeded up as a strange noise filled the air. Severus had trouble remembering his own name at that precise moment, much less the significance of the chimes he was hearing. As the chimes continued, the dildo speeded up to a feverish speed, and then Harry said, "ah, 12 o'clock, midnight. It's tomorrow now."  
  
It meant nothing to Severus, but the sudden absence of the ring around his cock did; obeying now became a lot harder. He groaned in frustration; he was about to come and he wouldn't be able to stop it this time, even if the dildo stopped.  
  
"Come for me," Harry ordered. And Severus obeyed, mortified that he had broken Harry'd command, his mind not grasping yet that he really hadn't, that it had been Harry who had over-ridden his earlier command. As he gushed his seed onto the chair seat, where it trickled over the edge to fall on his own forehead, soaking into his hair, his brain kicked in just long enough and he was able to relax, knowing he was off the hook.  
  
He basked in the euphoric feeling of release and did not fight when the world turned out its lights on him.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Harry monitored Sev's health signs very closely after he'd seen the man wink out on him after his climax. He wasn't too worried, but he did set about freeing him from the scrunched up position as quickly as possible, so Sev could breathe more freely. As Harry fired off a couple of cleaning spells to deal with the dripping sweat and come, he carefully untied Sev's back and then his legs so his lover could roll out flat on the red rug, which Harry had fortified with a cushioning charm. He ignored his own state of arousal, which was pushing against his jeans quite deliciously, in favour of completing the untying of Sev's arms from the chair back and the removal of the chair from over Sev's head. He cast a feather-weight charm and bent down to scoop his lover up bridal style, and he quickly got him to their large four-poster bed, where he left him lying on his side, gently snoring, as Harry headed to the bathroom to wash and prepare for bed.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
**TBC  
  
Don't forget to comment!**


	2. Chapter 2.

**Chapter 2.**  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Harry rechecked the labels on the jars of potion ingredients as he tidied the work area for the students that were having detention in the Potions classroom that Saturday. In light of the fact that he'd not be brewing with Severus that day, Harry had swapped detentions with Professor Brothwood, the new Transfiguration professor. That way Severus would get an evening off next week and one the week after, so that was well worth the trouble of Harry overseeing the kids all day.  
  
He himself would not be sitting still either; there was a lot of prep work he needed to do that required dedicated chopping power only, leaving his brain free to supervise the kids, Verda Dorkins, who had permission to brew her 7th year DADA project there, and Severus, of course, who'd be serving a detention of his own, albeit not one that the school directors would approve of, if they had known of it. Which they didn't, obviously. Nor would anybody but Harry and Severus.  
  
Harry finished setting up and cast one last glance at the seemingly unoccupied part of the class room; the side where the Professor's heavy desk stood next to the blackboard. He touched his hand to his chest, pushing the amulet under his clothing tightly against his naked skin. It felt warm, thrumming very faintly, indicating that Severus was doing fine. Harry let out a breath; he'd never set up a punishment like this before, so he knew he was going to be checking compulsively, especially because he had no visuals to work with. Trussed-up naked, kneeling underneath the big desk, 'covered' only in rope and Notice-Me-Not spells, Sev had made a tantalizing sight when Harry had put him there a half hour earlier, and now just the thought of his lover blindfolded and hidden away behind the ebony panelling, biting into his ball-gag, trying to stay quiet so he would not be discovered by his own students was an incredible turn-on. Harry smiled at the thought; this was going to be a lot of fun!  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Severus was caught in a hell of his own making. He had leaned over to rest his head against the panel at the back of the space under his own desk, trying to take the stitch out of his back that had formed shortly after Harry had left him there to contemplate his sins. And contemplate he did, hence the 'hell' he found himself in.  
  
He'd called himself ten types of fool, and that before the students had even come into the classroom - Severus could hear them clearly - and then the real torture started. He could tell by the sounds alone that someone was messing up on slicing fresh gravelroot; the stroke length of the knife was just a touch too halting, making the root squeak with each stroke. And there was the distinctive sound of flobberworms being mangled; a waste of good flobberworms but a norm for detentions, and even mangled like that they could still be used in certain potion bases. Severus' hands behind his back itched to correct the gravelroot cutter - not Harry obviously, the boy knew better at least - but then he remembered that he was not to take part and that upset him more than just being immobilized could ever do.  
  
All he could do was sit there and take it, distracted only from his thoughts by his aching back, putting him into a deep pit of despair. He'd pushed Harry beyond the point of tolerance, he realized. This punishment was meant to show Severus that Harry wasn't playing when he set his rules, a sentiment Severus now took to heart.  _Better late than never, right?_  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Between the students, keeping an eye on Severus and his own work, time went rather quickly for Harry. Almost before he knew it, it was twelve fifteen and the anxiety coming off the amulet was starting to worry Harry a bit. He decided to end the morning there, even if the kid's lunch wouldn't be served for another 15 minutes, so he hurried them out of the classroom, placing a stasis charm over Verda's botched-looking potion, telling them to come back in one hour.  
  
As soon as the door closed behind the last of them, Harry sealed it shut with a heavy duty locking charm and quickly moved behind the teacher's desk. Once here he lifted the Notice-Me-Not charm and took visual stock of his lover's state. Severus was slumped forward, head resting against the desk's hard wood, shaking, and his naked skin was clammy to Harry's touch. Harry stepped up behind the desk, sank down on his knees and wrapped his arms about his lover, cooing soft words of assurance that it was all going to be okay.  
  
After indulging for only a few minutes - he was on a schedule after all - he pulled Sev out from under the desk, scooped him up and whisked him away through the secret passage straight to their dungeon home. Once safely deposited on their bed, Harry made short work of the bindings and the gag, firing spell after spell to see to Sev's comfort.  
  
As soon as the gag was removed, Sev started to apologize, almost shocking Harry with his sincere and desperate voice. More shocking was the grovelling and pleading for forgiveness that came right after the last of the ropes had come off. With an almost icy feeling Harry realized the absolute power he now held over one of the strongest wizards alive in England. It frightened him, but it also fascinated him. And it left him feeling a warm glow of empowerment.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Harry lifted the locking charm from the door with only a minute to spare before the students were due back. As the kids re-entered the classroom, Harry was privately enjoying the looks of shock on their faces. Harry had told them earlier that professor Snape would not be supervising them that day, but now they could see him sitting there behind his desk, looking his usual grim self. Sev had a stack of parchments in front of him and did not look up as the students got back to their former places of detention or, in Verda's case, extra work. To them, it looked as if their professor was correcting homework, but Harry knew better.  
  
He'd been unwilling to continue with the same type of punishment as that morning, even though he was sure Sev would let him do it and worse besides, but Harry deemed it unsafe to go on and Sev had accepted the change of plan with minimum fuss. He had only balked for one moment when Harry had revealed his task for the afternoon; Sev was to be writing lines.  
  
Harry ordered Sev to write  _'I must not harm myself,'_ one thousand times. After that he was to start writing out the first year's potions curriculum; lesson plans, potion recipes, brewing instructions, all of it. And, if the day was not over by then, the second year's curriculum. And so on.  
  
Harry figured it was sticking to his own rule of not letting his wayward lover brew, and still keep Sev from going completely mental. And from where Harry was standing at a workbench, in the process of starting up a few potion bases in large cauldrons, he could see it working well enough; Sev had his head down and the only thing moving was his quill and at a high speed at that. Of course it helped that Harry had made it impossible for Sev to come over and try to join the brewing by tying the man down on his chair from the waist down. And he was sure the butt plug he'd made him wear was helping to distract Sev as well; it certainly was distracting Harry, who could feel the physical pleasure bleed through the amulet.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Harry kept this 'torture' up until well after dinner. He really needed the brewing time for their little potion business for one, and Verda, being a dedicated Ravenclaw, was determined to get her potion right and would simply not leave, for another. Harry had ended up having to coach her through her second attempt at brewing the difficult potion, after it had taken them quite a while to figure out what had gone wrong with the first. He had her talk him through every single step of the brewing before they figured out the gravelroot had not been sliced finely enough and, as a consequence, had not dissolved properly. More than once Harry was tempted to break his own rules and ask Sev to step in, but he resisted. In the end Harry made Verda leave for her dinner, when a waiting period appeared in the recipe, and Harry made use of the 30 minutes of relative privacy to serve Sev his dinner on his desk. Lamb cutlets with baby potatoes and green peas with gravy, on a nice plate with silver cutlery.  
  
As he had his own dinner, curry stew served in a simple big bowl with bread on the side, Harry glanced over at Sev's 'lines' and recognized a potion recipe from his 3rd year.  _'Wow, Sev is going fast,'_ Harry though,  _'at this rate he'll be done with 4th year in another hour or so!'_ Harry needed Sev to be busy for another hour after dinner and then finally, FINALLY, they'd be free to play! Harry shifted around on his seat with mute impatience; if he was feeling this ready for play, he could only imagine how Sev was feeling!  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
Severus was feeling quite despondent at that point. Harry had not said a word to him after the brats had come back to the classroom that afternoon. And it seemed to Severus that Harry was upping his punishment by helping Miss Dorkins with her potion and not looking at Severus even once throughout the lengthy encounter. Then he again didn't speak throughout dinner, and depression truly hit. And for the time until 8 o'clock, Severus tried to somehow make up for all of his sins by writing faster and faster, trying to finish the entire curriculum, trying to show that he was worthy, even though he knew he was not.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
By 8 o'clock, Harry had finished up the base brews, had bottled and labeled them and had tidied up his work station. He re-locked and re-warded the door before walking over to a still busily scribbling Sev, whom he tapped on his shoulder. Sev started so hard that his quill slipped, leaving an inky scratch on the parchment, and the inkwell that had been sitting next to his hand tipped over, spilling its ink everywhere. Harry used a quick banishing charm on the flowing ink and caught hold of Sev's left elbow. "Shh, it's just me," he tried to reassure the wide eyed looking man whose eyes were red-rimmed.  _Has he been crying,_ Harry wondered. And found his question answered as he saw water stains on some of the parchment leaves.  
  
_Making Sev cry in that way had never been the idea,_  Harry thought. He grasped his lover's chin and turned the man's head so he was looking him straight in the eyes. "Severus, promise me that this kind of punishment will never be needed again," he said earnestly. He both felt and saw Sev nod his agreement. Harry would have liked to have had his promise verbally, but he was not fool enough not to realize that this was a promise that the Potion Master wouldn't be able to keep; it was in the man's nature to hurt himself, all that could be done was cater to that need in a safe environment. Being Sev's keeper, Harry would keep that environment safe and as sane as the situation allowed.  
  
He nodded his own agreement and said, "school's out, let's go play now."  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
That evening Harry didn't feel like going to the dungeon. He craved the intimacy of flesh to flesh contact and saw no reason why he shouldn't indulge in that after their long day. So he had Sev prepare and then he ordered the man to lie spread-eagled face down on their bed, where he tied him hand and foot to their bed's sturdy bed posts. And then he proceeded to make passionate love to his man.  
  
_#HP#SS#HP#SS#HP#SS#_  
  
 **Don't forget to comment!**


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